Rip
by Drown Me In Blue
Summary: Renji stared at the place where his King had been standing a moment before, and then cast a sideways look at Ichigo. "You know," he offered conversationally, "as his bodyguard, I should be pitching a fit right about now."


**Pairing: **_Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Ichigo Kurosaki_

**Music** Dare_, by The Gorillaz_

**Word count:** ~ 1900

**Rating:** M

**A/N:**_ This one is dedicated to the wonderful anon reviewer Sasha. It's probably not quite what you had in mind, Sasha, but the plot monsters mutated in my head._

* * *

_**Prompt 16: **__Rip_

* * *

"You're an asshole!"

"Well, you're a bitch! And if you hadn't—"

"Oh, no. You're _not_ going to turn this around and blame it on me. _Whose_ libido was it that got us into this mess?" Ichigo crossed his arms and glared. "And if I'm a bitch, then you're a yappy little lapdog."

Grimmjow glared right back. "_Lapdog_? You're calling the fucking _King of Hell_ a _lapdog_? Ya suicidal? Or are ya just plain dumb?

"Well, whaddaya know," Renji muttered, rolling his eyes. "They already fight like a married couple."

Ichigo's usually honey-brown eyes were bleeding into gold-on-black, and his fingers had begun to twitch slightly with red-and-black sparks as he turned a murderous look on the tattooed redhead. "Oh, really?" he forced out through teeth gritted into what only a man-eating tiger could have termed a smile. "Well, Renji, guess what? _We are_, thanks to that incompetent _moron_ who can't _keep it_ in his _pants_."

Grimmjow inflated like a puffer fish and hissed in annoyance. "Oh, like you can blame this all on _me_? As I seem to remember, you were the one beg—"

The burring rasp of tearing fabric cut him off mid-word, and before he could utter another syllable, the King of Hell was booted backwards into the rift in space that had opened behind him. He vanished through it with a last flash of blue hair, and it closed as if a giant, ghostly hand had just zipped it shut.

Renji stared at the place where his King had been standing a moment before, and then cast a sideways look at Ichigo as he resettled his balance after what had been—in Renji's humble opinion—a rather excellent pivot-kick.

"You know," he offered conversationally, "as his bodyguard, I should be pitching a fit right about now."

"Uh-huh." Ichigo looked less than impressed.

The other redhead strolled casually to his side and surveyed the closed rip, just barely able to see an afterimage when he looked with his Sight. He tucked his hands into his pockets.

"So."

"Mm?"

"You can control 'em that well now?"

"Yep."

"Ah."

"Mm."

"…"

"…"

"So…"

"So?"

"Where'd ya send 'im?"

Ichigo's smile was positively demonic—which, considering the company Renji kept every day, was saying something.

"The lingerie store on Fifth Street."

Renji whistled his appreciation. "Changing room?"

The smile became angelic, and somehow a thousand times more terrifying

"Of course, Renji. What do you take me for?"

Renji thought about answering with, "_The new Queen of Hell_," but decided that he rather liked his balls where they were. So, instead, he turned on his heel and wandered off to save his king from the horrors of human women's underwear shops.

* * *

"That is _the_ most goddamn annoying, _frustrating_, fucking _stupid_ talent in this whole annoying, frustrating, goddamn _stupid_ town," Grimmjow growled, as he and his battered pride slinked down the dark street. He wanted to go punch something, just because he could. Just because having the crap scared out of him by a bunch of weird-ass women trying to get him to try on bras did _not_ make him a pussy. If anything, he should have been given a medal for not destroying anything, killing anyone, or committing suicide when his advisor stormed in to demand to know just _what the hell_ he thought he was doing.

Harribel was _never_ going to let him live that down.

Meandering after him at a distance of about twelve paces—just far enough back to be out of the line of fire, just close enough to be able to identify a threat and determine which way to duck—Renji inspected his nails. "I dunno," he drawled. "That cute ass of his has gotta make up for somethin', right? 'Sides, would ya really wanna have a queen who bowed and scraped and said 'Yes, milord; no, milord; up the ass, milord?' all day? Ya'd kill 'em in twenty-four hours."

Grimmjow fought down the surge of _mineminemineMINE_ that crawled up his throat at the thought of someone besides him looking at Ichigo's ass. It didn't matter that Renji was married (to a fucking _scary-ass_ general, too), or that Ichigo was married (to _him_, and wasn't that just the Universe's most fucked-up joke yet?)—Grimmjow was a demon, and as a demon, _no one_ was allowed to look at his mate like that.

Thankfully, Renji ranked lower than pond scum on his danger-scale, so he was able to push it down and focus on the huge fucking _joke_ that his life had become.

First, he had fallen in love—never mind that he was a _demon_, and the fucking _King of Hell_, and he wasn't supposed to fall in love with _anyone_.

Second, the one he had fallen for? Yeah, he was a human. See above argument, heavy emphasis on the whole _demon_ part.

Third, he had to be a weird-ass human from what was probably the weirdest-ass town this side of the Twilight Zone—and, as the Universe seemed to hate Grimmjow to an exponential degree, he couldn't be one of the few _normal_ humans in the town. Nope, he had to be a son of the even-weirder-ass-than-everyone-else family, who was responsible for containing the weirdness and keeping the aforementioned few normal people out of the supernatural loop.

And, as if that wasn't enough already, the list went on.

Fourth, the stupid human also had to be a drop-dead gorgeous _sex god_ with legs down to the _ground_ and the face of a Fallen angel who had enjoyed every minute of his sinful descent.

Grimmjow himself was, in the words of the immortal Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, "an Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards."

Heh.

He loved Crowley.

Anyway. Back to the list.

Fifth, said human had the power to rip open big fucking holes in space and toss people through them whenever he was feeing even vaguely annoyed.

Which he was.

A lot.

Not only that, but the holes? Yeah, they could lead _anywhere_. A fucking _mortal_ just barely out of his _teens_ had the power to waltz into Heaven whenever he wanted to, or send people to Hell, or leapfrog across the world in less than a minute.

Sixth (and oh, yes, there were more), when Grimmjow had landed in the town, the weird-ass air had done something…well, _weird_ to his system. Renji had said it looked like he was high on some really potent catnip.

Grimmjow told Renji to shut his stupid face, and decided that it had just been like he was drunk.

Really, really, _really_ drunk.

Seventh, aforementioned stupid, powerful, _sex_-on-a-_stick_ human had to be wandering the streets also drunk off his really adorable ass while this was happening, and they had to just happen to bump into each other.

And then, rounding it out at number eight, they just _had_ to have sex, because, hey, they were both more than a little drunk and more than a lot sexy, and it just _had_ to result in waking up this morning with pounding heads and fucking _bonding marks_ tattooed on their arms.

Oh yes, the Universe hated him.

Luckily, the feeling was most definitely mutual.

* * *

Ichigo had no idea why he was waiting up for the bastard. Except…

Well.

If Ichigo was really the new Queen of Hell (which was, actually, a lot easier for him to accept than it might have been for other people, having lived in Karakura all his life), then Grimmjow owed him.

More to the point, Grimmjow owed him sex.

Really fucking good sex.

If he had to put up with not only the blue-haired bastard, but also Renji for the remainder of his suddenly-maybe-not-so-mortal life, then Grimmjow had to put out. Preferably often. Preferably well. And preferably with some variety. Then again, Grimmjow was hot enough to make for a lack of all three. Not that their night together (what he could remember) _hadn't_ been all three, but Ichigo was hoping Grimm would pull a repeat performance.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door of his apartment flew open, and the King of Hell stalked in, anger rolling off his shoulders, muttering to himself, swearing a blue streak, and looking downright sexy with his messy hair and slightly unfocused eyes.

Without even pausing to greet him, Ichigo pounced.

Grimmjow had never been stripped so fast in his life. Within moments, he was flat out on his back on the floor, staring up in dazed fascination at the sexy redhead on top of him. Ichigo didn't give him a chance to talk, but kissed him, his mouth a searing brand that left Grimm's lips aching like the skin had been taken off them, he wanted _more_ so much. They kissed, and kissed, and Ichigo wondered vaguely if it was possible to come from a kiss alone. He never got to find out, though, as Grimmjow gripped his hips and ground their erections together. The redhead shuddered, ducking down for another kiss, and then he was somehow naked, too, and there were two fingers inside him. He clenched down on them, gasping at the strangely empty fullness, and whined deep in his throat.

"_Grimm!_"

Grimmjow hissed out an oath and lifted Ichigo, even as he rolled his hips up in a swift thrust.

The long, ragged moan he got as he bottomed out was more than enough to make up for everything that had happened since he got to this weird-ass, creepy town.

"Fuck, Ichi," he growled, as Ichigo curled forward towards his chest, little mewling whimpers and groans escaping him with every rumbling syllable. "Ichi, fuck, you gotta move. Move, darlin'. I've gotcha."

Brown eyes dazed, Ichigo shifted back, twisting into a rocking figure eight that he knew from last night would drive both of them absolutely nuts. It did, the friction of skin-on-skin and the warmth of two bodies and the sounds the other was making driving them right up to the edge and over it. Ichigo came with a muffled moan, gritting his teeth, and a moment later Grimmjow bucked his hips up and froze with a deep cry.

They stayed frozen for several long minutes, then slowly relaxed, collapsing together on the rug, both breathing hard and trembling slightly in the aftermath.

Then Grimmjow flung his arm over his eyes, winced, and growled, "Next time, we're doing it on the couch or the bed. _Not_ the damn rug."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and settled against his side, pulling the throw blanket from the couch to cover them. He closed his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered. "But you owe me sex. _Lots_ of really fucking good sex. And I get to rip a portal straight to the arctic and dump Renji through."

Slowly, a wide grin spread over Grimmjow's face, and he tucked Ichigo against his side with one careful arm. "Oh, _hell_ yes. And I get to kick him in."

Satisfied, Ichigo nudged closer and sighed. "Night, Grimm. I hate you."

Grimmjow folded an arm behind his head, his grin widening. "Hate you, too, Ichi."

Yeah, the Universe still hated him.

But maybe whole "life" part wasn't actually so bad.


End file.
